


Foundlings of a Feather

by Fault



Category: Priest (2011)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fault/pseuds/Fault
Summary: The Church has found Priest. He isn't very impressive, yet. But Priestess can see something in him.





	Foundlings of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> It's understanding at first sight.

The almost-a-Priestess is tending her equipment in the weapons room when her favourite comrade pokes his handsome brunette head through the door. He smiles when he sees he's found her, his teeth dazzling white against his tan.  
“Want to take a prayer break?” He asks “They're swearing in a new candidate in the Chapel.”

She nods. Finishes up her cleaning quickly. They walk piously, but purposefully towards the Chapel. Her skin has barely healed from her final Vow, the ink fresh and bright.

A minute later, they are seated quietly in the corner of a back row as the Monsignori start their Investiture at the front. The first laying down the Holy items, the second walking to the pulpit with the Holy Book. 

The Candidate walks in, accompanied by a more senior Brother to guide him. She's surprised to see he's an adult. A tall, pale young man, older even than her friend beside her. Hesitant. Serious. Wounded. He tucks his blonde hair behind his ear self consciously. Somehow he looks very, very lost, and sorrowful.

The Ceremony begins, too quiet for them to make out half the words. Not that they need to, they remember their own Investiture well enough. He takes the first vows of a Priest candidate. The Simple Vows of obedience to the Church, the relinquishment of property and position outside the Church. 

Why would they take someone so late? He is past the prime moulding time of the Priesthood. The malleability of teenage bodies and minds was part of how their abilities became so sharp. Her friend was a late start at 16 a few years ago. So what made this candidate so special? This sad, wounded man.

He has no aura of the agility and strength that usually marked Priest candidates.

So what was special about him? There must be something, or else why had the Church taken him so late?

Then came the vow to protect humanity from vampires. His whole demeanour changed, became tense, unified into a single laser focus, his head raising, blue eyes burning into the Cross he knelt before. Each syllable forceful and precise.

A shiver runs through her. Now she understands. This man has seen loss at the hands of the vampires. And that loss has changed him.

“How many did he kill?” She asks in a whisper.

“What?” Asks her friend, darting a glance at her. 

“Have you heard how many vampires he killed?” She elaborates, eyes never leaving the Candidate.

“No, how do you know he killed any?” He asks, confused. 

“Look at him.” Even from the back of the Chapel, they can see his injuries.

“You think that was from a vampire attack?” He re-evaluates the Candidate.

“Yes. I think that's how the Church found him. A survivor. Small town savior.”

The Candidate stands, his vows at an end for now. A simple cross is painted across his features. He almost stumbles on his way out of the Chapel. He looks exhausted. 

Just for a moment, his eyes look over, lock on hers. He barely seems to register the meaning of her cross, the permanent successor to the one painting his own face. He seems to confused by everything. Her heart goes out to him. 

She herself became a candidate by being found as a survivor. She'd hidden herself in a tiny high crack between the roofs of buildings, muffling her cries in her clothing enough that the vampires cleared out before noticing and finding her. The Church had been her home since.

Her friend had been found by the Church during a Testing. He wasn't one of the tragic ones. His nightmares were not so sharp. He did not see a kindred soul in the man who'd just left the room.

“Do you think he'll withstand training?” Her friend asks.

“Yes.” She says. “He's one of us.” She says with utter conviction.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new here. Please be nice about it if I've messed up. This work is a thought experiment to help me think through a larger Priest work. Do you think I've captured their personalities?


End file.
